I will try to post verbatim from the original copy that I have in front of me. It is not easy as his use of the language is odd and his typewrite had a habit of only partially printing some letters. Oh well, here goes.............

COLUMN ONE

Astir the pine in sombre lay.
'Twas a barmy autumn night,
-and a-godly lot was there that oversaw Joe's bar-room,
as Court on the square:
And as song in wit as story ekes of oaken door,
a vagabond stept lowly in asken on the floor:
As someone, "ha" where's it from?
Wind's blown it in: what does
want? whiskey! rum or gin? See,
Tobe! sic! Joe's can do the work I wouldn't touch with a fork: it's
fetid as a Turk! "As barinage
the myscreant took in static
grace intact, as one of place, and
doting lowas embers fall nods
in turn cesret call: and Joe
growls at hackman late, but
heightens glee as glass to brim,
as judge and jury wait: yet naught
of tort pays to goad or hurl at
pine beside the road, -as onesays,
"he's clean..a gentleman too!
who knows of scar(?) Joe, look
in-side down'ur throat! Men Tom's
hard: thousands bad but sees-'
neith the coat the man. . "Yes Tom-
tis so of a burly crowd: such on
turn would make the deacon proud:
a-dram I want, hardly fixed for
snow; when as yore Bob was never
slow; what! ascur as if or not
this wallet had a-sou; once was
up who knows as any one of you
there: thanks; good! rock-n-rye;
helps me some..God bless you all;
perchance again would call; night,
-goodnight, cold! what, a song(?)
no, can't do that..singin days
past; voice cracked! throat's
worn! lungs are going fast; says
a snook..and what'd do..a punny
tale as ever knew; that I was any
'count,-who'd think(?) but 20
years back! turn a drink; fill-
er-up Joe, want some life in my
frame; such to "C" are miserly
tame! there, five fingers the
stuff and cracking whiskey too;
well, here's and landlord, same
to you-set down! U've used me
well and won't blame as tell an-
howas Joe and broken now. Once
was a man of calling name and
health..and but for gamble ought
've won fame as wealth; was a
painter, not on brigand wood, but
of Florence as alpine neighborhood
wept at my canvas a mystcreant
of dispise in the halo-heights
of Switzerland on the winds of
paradise!

COLUMN TWO

Made a picture few have seen..the
Chaise of Fame:-fetched 1500 francs
at Monte Carlo game; then a woman
hear the stunning start, with eyes
that turned my brain as life of
art: not a nudess of garden-role,
or stone, nor naughty, but an ideal
soul: So changed-strange that a
vagabond should love, seems wrong..
but 'tis so was ever neat and
love was given, and in her ruby
lips and mine..O God: 'twas heaven:
-Ever see of pine for..own would
give(?) of form as Goddess Vebus,
too worshipful to live..and eyes
afar in lays of raven jet hair?
So! "twas she an '-never-'nother!
Half so fair. I was groping at
my canvass, out a task of shadow
lay off Joe's tintype by mother
at midnight sun as day..and own
makes of it in toss of covet-prize
..and acts in accent of it and,
such! dreamy eyes. Was't long for
in the curfew moan Joe sat by her
and I was left alone; and in the
year of misery and ache of heart
the jewel of my soul tales of
pine as dead. 'Tis the story; but
scarce a turn or smile..felt
might be aver as something mean
or vile; and what's wrong Tom, a
tear..a-sigh(?) Ha, laugh.. but
woman's cry! Say Joe, a -brace, and
I'll feel better..glad, and draw
right here in memory, the one that
drove me mad-fetch the char you
mark the whiskey score and see..
her face in fancy on the bar-room
floor. So ashen alway as nun
affright; and clarion as volunteer
choir or person of mistook right;
O image divine at pillow-pane as
wont..and rogueishly shy, she
comes in her girlish-caress and
accent of solace goodbye. Who
knows maybe I was at fault, and
blind to tear, as sigh as sage of
Mona Lisa wrought in Bob so bad
as I!"

Another as wil-o'clock dram..and
knelt with char askan at sketch
of one might stir the soul of
any man: then a truant memory lock
..in accent low, "Madgelene" thou
mistook one! struggles to rise and
with cry as phantom of dread..
leaps as in her arms forgiven; and
fell on the picture dead.

To the best of my abilities this is the exact way it appears on this paper that is dated 1872 and is signed in ink by John Henry Titus. If anyone would like a photo of this, please let me know.